Hello Peeps,
I’m Lakshmi, and today I’m in a mood to chew cud and share my story with you. Are you ready to listen?
I was born 15 years ago and my owner says I look very much like my mother. Yes, both mom and I have a white patch on our forehead. My daughter looks Identical to us. We’ve been with our owner for two generations. My mother and her sister lived in this farm before us.
My mother was called “Shenbagam” and her sister was called “Saraswathi”. This family we live with are devout Hindus and they named us after their gods. Sometimes, I wish for a fancy English names like Elizabeth, Valarie or Stephanie. May be the Hindu names saved us from being sent to an abattoir? So, let me thank the Hindu gods.
When we were young, we lived on mom’s milk and slowly transitioned to eating hay, fresh grass and fodder. On festival days like Pongal, we were garlanded, horns were painted in bright colours and fed “Sakkaraipongal” (sweet rice) and fruits.
As a calf, I used to be afraid of night and stayed closer to my mother after sun down. As I grew older, I made friends with moon and stars and developed confidence to be on my own. Also, I took additional responsibilities to watch out for my siblings, nieces and nephews.
The male ones in our farm were sent to the farm for work. While mom, my sister and I stayed at home enjoyed each other’s company and raised young calves with love and care.
A few years ago my mom fell sick. Though the vet regularly came to check on her, but could do nothing to make her better. And, when we realised she wasn’t going to be around for long, we all felt sad. Despite her frailty, she spent her last days with her grandchildren and they loved being around her.
Luckily, my owner cared for mom in her old age too. He didn’t sell her to a slaughterhouse and gave her a tearful send-off when she died. My mom was buried behind the two hay stacks in the picture.
Even today, the owner and his family remembers her and every time they introduce us to their grand kids they talk about our family and I feel so proud.
After her time it was my sister and I in the farm. We got busy with our lives, but often thought of her - mighty presence, kind and magnanimous nature. As a cow, our job was to yield milk and deliver calves. My sister and I took turns and delivered calves 12 calves. I’m 15 years old and I’ve had 7 offsprings. I’ve met several bulls in the farm, but never had an opportunity to get intimate with them.
While humans chose their partner, fall in love, get married and have kids, we are rarely allowed that kind of life and intimacy. My sister and I delivered all our offsprings through artificial insemination. And, every time our children ask about their fathers we tell them that they are busy working in the farm and sending us all the hay.
Days and years rolled by and our owners were also getting older with us and couldn’t care for the 6 of us. They retained me and my daughter and sold my younger sister, her daughter and my son to another family to farm owner across from us. I get to see them on festival days and sometimes they raise their voice to share updates at their farm.
Off late, I’ve not been able to chew much food and get tired very easily. The vet examined my health and specially my teeth and told the owner that I was ageing fast and recommend I be fed with soft food and fresh grass.
I got anxious after hearing the Vet, but my owner is kind enough to treat me with special care. He has stopped milking me and has put me on a special diet with high protein, easily chewable food and less fibre.
My family and I had a happy life on this farm and none of them were sent to the abattoir. I’ll happily say goodbye to them when my time comes and I know my owner will give me a good farewell.
These days I spend my time watching my daughter “Durga” who was named after my grand mother and being around my grand children Tulsi (below) and Maruthi (behind Tulsi).
Sometimes at night, I hear my mom from behind the hay stack. She tells me to accept my old age and get prepared to join her someday.
I hope I can get to see all those who read my story and appeal to them to be kind to us and not consume us. Also, I would like to appeal to politicians and WhatsApp University graduates to not spread rumours about the curative power of our urine and dung.
Thanks,
Lakshmi
